Is our true love was going anywhere?
After traditional local fun fair
Nothing does compare, with the teasing scare
Where we share, our mature teen age affair
Passing written notes, from pens we borrow
Wonder about future, unknown horror
Sunny blue skies? After we say goodbye?
Studying college courses are new try
Meeting new friends, saying, he’s a nice guy
Semester we wander getting credit
Attend class confessing "should have read it"
Or the other excuse, “I don’t get it”
Compass directs one to the campus bar
Healing wounds from the bloody mark grade scar
Is our true love was going anywhere?
After traditional local fun fair
Nothing does compare, with the teasing scare
Where we share, our mature teen age affair
Passing written notes, from pens we borrow
Wonder about future, unknown horror
Sunny blue skies? After we say goodbye?
Studying college courses are new try
Meeting new friends, saying, he’s a nice guy
Semester we wander getting credit
Attend class confessing "should have read it"
Or the other excuse, “I don’t get it”
Compass directs one to the campus bar
Healing wounds from the bloody mark grade scar
And making out with a long neck lone star
As old age upon us descends,
we view the past through rosy lens.
It seems to us that bygone days
were far better in many ways.
The memories of better times
help us cope when life serves up limes.
They give us hope that better days
will soon return, like Dawn’s bright rays.
But dreaming of the good old days
can cause us to live in a daze
and rob us of the good in life
that abounds amidst its strifes.
The good old days had their fair share
of heartache, trouble, strife, and care.
The present times, in many ways,
are better than the good old days.
Treasure the good from bygone days
Let them inform your present ways
So, you can reap the very best,
As you progress in your life quest.
For you are nevermore.
Your eyes' last light
never illumined mine.
Death prompted us
to be hasty -
curbed childhood,
sped me past stop signals,
headlong onto adult carousels.
But we must agree over how these hours are
moving against our wills.
I've remained still until here,
grasping a rumpled-up grocer's receipt
with this budget-buy pen,
confident of words
I have space to admit now
and bury in poetry's
kinetic cemetery.
I'm sure I loved
your faulty teeth's scattered English,
its determined guidance.
I wished my life
had been adequate
to cover your shortfall
as you had covered mine
back when I was all but novelty.
the broken camera in my hand,
the burnt film in yours,
is this our end?
what if i still want more?
the shards of glass fallen down,
i see my reflection torn,
the sadness turns to a frown,
where to have you gone?
colours are everywhere,
lights and fireworks,
Oh! such a beautiful stare,
but why suddenly this dark?
this swallowing sadness,
please save me, i'm lost,
an inescapable deep abyss,
it feels cold, as empty as trust.
is this me inside?
is this inside me?
i have no where to go,
where are the colours i once held onto?
it's all in monotone,
maybe black, maybe white,
i want to explore,
but i can't see any hope or light.
i see a little me who is vibrant,
what a pleasant sight,
i feel something vibrate,
and i wake up, with tears in my eyes.
-V.S
Born frail
Through my wonder I wander and become pained
and rover subtly these days
Time polishes my brain,
Wisdom lies in the grave
You used my body
For desires that
Should never be expressed
You sealed up secrets
In a place you created
Because your soul needed caressed
You used my filing cabinet
To store documents
Full of theft and deceit
You bought items
That needed hiding
And gave me the receipt
I did my duty for years
As my bottom grew
With the weight in my pockets
I brought every case
To the One True judge
But never appeared on his docket
If Justice is to be served
Someone must take a step
To sort out responsibility
Today, I release, all that's not me
With dignity and decorum
So that we live in the civility
...of LOVE
Written by Trudy Schrader on 09-10-2026
I went to that bench
where we laughed until tears
and cried until smiles.
And suddenly, a bullet of
memories hit me.
You were there,
but in a face I barely remember
now.
Maybe time tore us apart,
but left the memories for my heart.
Funny, isn't it?
How you gave me so many memories
just to become one yourself.
When we were young, with songs unsung,
glad hearts, bright minds is what you’d find.
Time then sped on. Years came our way.
We grew and loved. We worked and played.
Those Happy Days!
With Kith and Kin, I’d sing and grin.
But must concede, that time did speed.
On dif’rent paths, we spread our wings,
and went our ways, saw dif’rent things.
On Happy Days.
From Jesus Christ, gained truth and life,
learned sacrifice, since love is right.
So we obey, since it’s The Way,
to His good grace, to see His face.
Oh! Happy Day!
Some time to go, before I sleep.
Promises due, are yet to keep.
I look now, back, o’er all the years,
rememb’ring both, the joys, the tears,
of Happy Days.
Life tasted sweet. Now I’m most spent.
Soon, friends I’ll meet, where there’s no end,
to Happy Days.
I hate growing up
I hate decisions
They're scarier than the monsters
I used to fear when young
they grow with you; they increase
they haunt you
and worse, there is a right or wrong
consequences, mistakes that could ruin your whole future
guess growing up isn't about a driver's license
it's responsibility, like it's something you have learned
it's caring about others even if it means being in silence
it looks so easy on TV, like it's just another step on the stairs
maybe I watched the wrong movies,
it's more like jumping off a plane and hoping you would survive,
in the sea with the salty water till whenever
So would I go back if I could?
YES, without a doubt, a thought
maybe it was better making faces with clay
maybe it was easier spending the day on a swing, and getting a slight headache
and even then someone was there to nurse you
Yes, life is not easy, and it has never been fair
“Attention is the beginning of devotion.” —Mary Oliver
I keep the pebble safe with me,
Within my pocket’s care.
I turn my bear to watch the tree;
He sits beside me on the chair.
At lunch I smile at crowds that glance,
And hope for friendly eyes to meet.
By night, I search the newest dance,
To keep in step out on the street.
I check the clock to plan my day,
And clear the inbox, one by one.
The heavy keys are tucked away;
Before I leave, the day’s begun.
I test my knee before the stair,
The kitchen hinge complains at night.
I mend the things that need my care,
And leave the rest to settle right.
I move my chair into the sun,
And warm both hands around my tea.
The morning asks for nothing done;
The light has found the place for me.
From the moon to the mountains, in grains of sand,
the everyday transformation and exile,
the joy of returning home
rests upon my walking.
Do not
put Sellotape
over it anymore.
One Monday,
at the window of rain,
let the words
that were never spoken
stay with me too,
some rain-soaked
names, some
sunlight that never
made it home.
Leave the door
open, in case
she ever
comes back
to a blurred life.
I will live
with a little courage
in this hazy life.
It raises goosebumps,
the blunt
sky blooms
with stars.
I don't know why
I sit and sit,
waiting, searching,
brush in hand,
looking this way and that.
You have kept so much suspicion
in your eyes.
Why?
I am only a little to the north,
a little to the south,
in surrender.
The plot thickened
Thinned…then
Thickened again
As idle thoughts perused the air
Each page a hero
Facing fear
Then a shift
Plot’s deviance
A character
That makes no sense
Inserted
As an after thought
Reshuffling the lies I bought
Lightening flashed
The book took flight
Monsters from all ages
Ran amok
And brought to life
The terror
Of the pages
I found it hiding ‘neath the bed
A place I knew quite well
For I had gathered woolies there
In midnight’s game
Of hide and shriek
MY BOOK IS FREE FOR 5 DAYS! (Sep 1-5)
My dear poetry family,
My first book "My Rules To Win" is now LIVE on Amazon and it is FREE for you from 1st to 5th September!
This is my thank you gift for all your love on my poems.
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With love,
Koyel Mandal
P.S. Link is on my author profile bio!
As kids are often want to do, I played in muddy creeks
and excavated treasures whose value couldn’t keep.
A rod of cherry wood, a rock that’s colored peach,
and soda cans which all developed leaks.
I loved them all and left them on their own
to brave the world beside my shackled home.
Better that than let a parent’s hapless hand
direct my treasures to the garbage can.
Like weeds that spring, I sprouted in my youth
and found my roots were also pulling loose.
I left that town and gave-up make believe,
leaving untold wealth beneath the amber leaves.
Growing Up Categories
Definition | What is Growing Up in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.